


A Face that Dropped a Thousand Swords

by Mischief11



Series: Worlds Will Collide [6]
Category: Marco Polo (TV)
Genre: Beardless Marco is beautiful!, Byamba is not amused, Crack, M/M, Not My Fault, marco is a precious little cinnamon bun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischief11/pseuds/Mischief11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco confronts Sidao in the throne room and things don't go as planned. Or Marco takes down the Song Dynasty by showing his face to Jia Sidao and he compliantly steps down the throne and worships Marco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenia/gifts).



> I own nothing.

Marco took a moment to lean against one of the pillars inside the entrance of the Song Palace to wipe some of the blood from his face. It came off easily from his jaw since the blood was wet and he had no beard to catch it. He cut it because he was desperate for a change after being spared from death thanks to Yusuf’s sacrifice and decided that the beard should go. Now, he slightly regretted it since he now looked younger than he was but Byamba seemed to like it from the way he pounced on Marco as soon as he had entered the tent. Now that he was covered in blood Marco was glad the cleanup was going to be easier as he pushed himself off the pillar and continued in the direction of the throne room. He had just entered it when a calm and arrogant voice rang throughout the halls. 

“A round-eye? What stake do you have in this fight?”

Surprised Marco turned round scanning the room until he saw a man he recognized as Jia Sidao sitting on the throne as though he was king and next to him was a guard. Back straightening Marco strode forward to challenge the man who stood between his Khan and victory. 

“Come down and surrender to your Khan.” Marco demanded as his grip on the sword tightened. 

Instead of answering or complying the man simply sat on the throne and stared at him as if Marco struck him. A little nervous with the way the Chinese man was sitting there staring he repeated his demand.

“Surrender to your Khan.” Marco growled out to the other man who finally responded. 

“I would never surrender the Song Dynasty to the Mongols but I will bow before an angel of wraith.” Jia Sidao breathed as Marco blinked in confusion.

“What?” The Latin watched in shock as the Chinese man turned to the guard and orders that he sound the drums to surrender. The man tried to protest but with a sharp word the man was off. 

“Funny that the heavens would send me an angel of wraith and ruin now when the Mongols charge through my door.” Sidao mumbled as he turned back to continued to stare at Marco. 

The Latin looked around to see if this was a trick but could not see anyone lying in wait to attack. 

“Speak to me, my angel of beauty. Just say a word and it is yours.” Sidao pleaded.

“KNEEL.” Marco yelled in frustration. 

Without another word Sidao rose to his feet and descended the steps until he was within a few feet of Marco. The Latin raised his sword to prepare for an attack but Sidao simply feel to his knees as if his feet could no longer carry any weight. Instead of begging for his life the man simply gazed upon him as if a beggar would a mountain of gold. 

No longer feeling comfortable with the way that he was being stared at Marco decided to back away and call one of the troops to watch him. However as he started to leave Sidao seemed to be snapped out of his trance as drums arouse in the distance. 

“I do not mean any disrespect. I have never seen an angel from the heavens before. I have seen many pretty things before in this court from concubines to ladies of noble blood but none like you. You are beautiful. Helen of Troy, the face that launched a thousand ships.” Marco dropped his sword in shock. 

“What?”

“Why are you with them? Why the Mongols? You and I could have conquered China. The Mongols do not deserve you, Angel. They endangered you by bringing you into this war but I wouldn’t have dared. I would wrap you in silks, bath you into jewels, feed you feasts on the finest porcelain and spend my nights on my knees before you.” Sidao declared. 

Marco was frozen in his steps even though he could faintly hear approaching footsteps as the Chinese man continued.

“I can see why you are here. I have failed to do right by the Song so my people must fall to the Mongols. It is a gift and a punishment that defeat is led by such an angel.” Sidao paused in his speech to trace Marco’s face slowly making the Latin’s skin crawl. “You are beautiful. Your hair, your lips and your eyes. I can see why the savages followed you. I can see it. My Helen of Troy, the face that dropped a thousand swords. The angel that brought down the Song dynasty.” Whatever Marco could have said was lost as the Khan entered the throne room with his guard. 

“You found sense and decided to spare the lives of your man, Sidao? It seems you are not as foolish as I thought.” The Khan announced as he came to stand in front of the Chinese man as Marco hurried to bow while soldiers filled the room. 

“Take this prisoner to the cage while I take my throne.” The Khan ordered some of his troops that jumped to obey. 

“My angel!” Jia Sidao called out as the guards dragged him away. The heads of those present turned in Marco’s direction to find who Sidao was calling to so he turned his head too in order to appear as confused as the rest of them. 

A large hand wrapped around Marco’s shoulder which he discovered was only Byamba who looked a bit wild and bloody as he followed Sidao with his eyes. Once the man was gone those eyes turned to him and Marco knew that his lover was not fooled by his act of being ignorant to whom Sidao was referring. Turning around quickly Marco watched the Khan ascend to his new throne with Byamba’s fingers tight around his shoulder and the assumption that he would be spending the rest of the night tied to the bed as Byamba showed him whose angel he was.


	2. Angel on the Battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jingim is struck by the beauty of Marco's shaven face on the battlefield which does not end well. Even in pain Jingim still finds the time to fall in love. Byamba is not happy.

Never before had Jingim felt like a Mongolian than he did at this exact moment cutting through men on his rampage to the broken wall of Xiangyang. He was hungry with blood lust, his sword was calling for the throats of his enemies and the cries of the dying was like music to his ears. He breathed with satisfaction as he ran through another Chinese man and proceed to climb near the rumble when a particular harsh scream went through the air. Turning his head Jingim quickly looked around to see if his comrades was still with him and saw Byamba cleaving through enemies as if they were simply training dolls behind him. What got his attention was the sight of a man with golden-brown curls fighting not too far from him and Byamba. Anger swept through the prince as the Latin cut down his current enemy. This was not his fight so what is he doing here now? Before he could open his mouth to yell at the Latin he turned around and Jingim’s thoughts came to a complete halt. Sweat has caused his curls to stick to his forehead and his eyes seemed to almost glow but what hit him was seeing that Marco had shaved his face bare. The pale and smooth flesh made him look like royalty and caused his lips to look pinker, more mouthwatering. He moved with inhuman grace and his strikes were elegant. He looked like an angel of war on the battlefield taking the Mongols to victory against their ancient enemies. Immediately Jingim felt something rise up in him that tasted like inspiration and admiration from this muse of battle.

The prince was broken from his trance by a hot and sharp pain bursting over his chest and right shoulder. It was breathe taking, all consuming, soul shattering and Jingim wondered if he was destined to hell. It took too long to push pass the pain to even realize that someone had fallen on top of him and that the blue sky seemed to grow in front of his eyes in till it seemed to consume the world. He felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness until the body on top of him was rolled off relighting the fire that was the wound on his chest. He opened his eyes and saw one of the Song soldiers standing above him with blade in hand and death in his eyes. Determined to face his death with pride Jingim snarled at the man as he held his blade high in a death blow. Just as the sword started its descent the sound of solid steel breaking bone split the air as Byamba’s club slammed into the soldier’s chest killing him instantly. Confident that he was not about to die as his brother was there Jingim laid his head back to only catch sight of a man with curls leaning over him.

The Song soldier had death in his eyes but Marco’s held life. The blue-green jewels seemed to dance as the Latin leaned over his body with a face full of concern. Why now did he notice how majestic the man was? How could a simple beard him the Latin’s beauty so completely that no one could guess what laid underneath? Staring up into the beauty made Jingim’s double in speed but light enough that it could have flew out his chest into the sky above. He wanted to reach out and feel the softness of those curls, trace Marco’s jaw with the thumb, kiss the lips that drew pictures with words and burn in the brightness that was Marco Polo. The man pulled back from his sight as soldier’s surrounded him so he could he be moved to safety but Jingim mourned the loss of seeing his angel fly away.

* * *

 

He was given medicine to drink but the pain was still too sharp for him to sink into the sweetness that was sleep. He tried to throw himself back into unconsciousness but stopped when he felt a presence by his side. Opening his eyes he saw it was the angel of the battlefield who led their people to victory and his dreams: Marco. He now understood why he couldn’t beat him and how the Latin avoided death so easy – how does one kill an angel?

“Auspicious that I didn’t defeat you with my sword back in Cambulac.” He mumbled as the cart came to a stop.

“Prince.” His voice was like a medicine to his ringing head. He wished he could keep the Latin by his side just to hear him speak but he knew the Khan was be calling for him soon enough.

“Our Khan will want to hear your account, Polo.” He announced sadly.

“Then he will hear that his son fought like his great-grandfather, Genghis. A Khan worthy of the throne.” Marco said smoothly for truly he was not just medicine to his head but a balm for his soul. Opening his eyes Jingim took a moment to gaze upon the person he had foolishly once called rat. His armor was dark and bloodstained as was his face but none of the blood appeared to be his. The dirt failed to ruin the Latin’s beauty or taint the grace in his movements as he leaned over him. Jingim could feel himself slipping to sleep so he raked his eyes over the Latin’s face so that he could see the light of his dreams as he lifted his arm which Marco grasped.

“We shall talk more in the coming days. Peace to you...zurkh.” The Latin’s eyes grew even bigger when the term of endearment registered but whatever he was going to say was lost as his brother appeared at the Latin’s side with his hand on Marco’s shoulder.

“It will be wiser for you to focus on healing then making plans for future appointments, brother. Do not worry for _I_ shall keep Marco’s company as I always have. We shall depart so that your attendants can focus on getting you to the healers without distractions. It would be a shame for the cart to tip over.” Byamba proclaimed as he pulled Marco away from the cart as it started to move. Before the cart could get to far away Jingim turned to see the angel but only caught a glimpse of Byamba pulling Marco off quickly with some rope in his left hand.

Jingim drifted off to sleep with the vision of Marco’s face in his dreams and his brain asking what Byamba meant about keeping Marco company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zurkh - heart

**Author's Note:**

> Not actually part of my marco/byamba storyline


End file.
